Kathy Jay - What If He’s the One

The mini champagne bottle looked perfectly chilled. Was this Alex being considerate? She didn’t know what she’d expected from the man who’d walked away without saying goodbye, but it definitely wasn’t quips about tepid champagne.

His incendiary eyes ignited a touch paper of acute embarrassment topped off with a sprinkling of nostalgia. Her heartbeat skipped, like an awkwardly timed hiccup. She laughed, jittery. His voice was all actorly. Posh – sort of. Not marbles – more velvety, like rich, dark, melted chocolate. So much for having got over the effect he’d had on her in their student days.

He sounded kind of mid-Atlantic, half-Brit, half-American. De-lish. And altogether too smooth. What was it about that soft rumble? He made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention.

“No one’s called me Maggie since …” She stopped abruptly. Um. You did. Way back when. “… It’s Magenta now.”

“Magenta Plumtree – fashion stylist to the stars.” Did she detect a hint of cynicism?

“I wouldn’t go quite that far.” A lump formed in her throat. “Until now, that is.”

He snared her gaze. The moment lasted a second too long. Even after all this time, she could lose herself in his dreamy eyes.

“You’re still just plain Maggie to me.” His delectable drawl gave her tingles. The orange juice sloshed. She set it down on the tray table, eyes fixed on it as if she’d just found a fly floating in there. Avoiding Alex’s roguish face, she studied her blue nails, the only soupçon of color in her meticulously monochrome appearance. She pinched the skin on the back of her hand, though a little bit harder than she intended. “Ouch.”

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“ Checking you’re not a nightmare.”

He frowned and pinched the back of his own hand. “Well, what do you know? Neither are you.”

A bubble of emotion burst. He compelled her to smile despite her inclination to send him frosty, couldn’t-care-less-about-you vibes.

You’re ridiculously dreamy actually!

The Wells twins’ celebrity status was stratospheric. They had the bad-boy reputations to go with it. Less inclined to publicly flaunt his love life than his scandal-prone brother, Alex maintained an air of mystery. Even so, he’d been the subject of his fair share of gossip over the years.

“So. Long time, no see. How the hell are you?”

She must be hearing things. He’d said “long time, no see”. Despite her annoyance at his cheek, sparks of their once-upon-a-time chemistry flickered. “I’m good. Grr-reat. You?”

“Fine. Busy. Doing promo for the final series of Vampires . She took another hit of his blue eyes and spine-tingly voice, barely listening to the actual words he was saying. “And working on a new project in London.”

Fidgety, she picked up her drink, took a sip and waited for the next question.

“What about you, Maggie? What are you up to these days? Not married or anything?”

Right on cue. More cheek!

“Nope. Not married.”

Maggie met his magnetic stare full on. She sizzled. She had to tough this out. She couldn’t in all honesty add “Or anything”, but she certainly wasn’t about to share her personal life with him. The eyes that wowed women all over the planet from the safety of their TV screens slid to her left hand. No wedding ring.

Flipping flippity flip.

Why couldn’t they be on a posh new plane? Then he’d have his own personal first-class pod to chillax in? Instead of spoiling her upgrade.

“How do you like your upgrade? Shame about the champagne. I hope you don’t mind, Maggie, but I took the liberty of having you moved to Business. It’s been a long time, I thought it might be good to meet, clear the air, ahead of working together.”

Maggie gulped, only just managing not to splutter juice all down her front.

“You upgraded me?” she squeaked. How dare he interfere with her travel arrangements? “There was really no need. I’ll reimburse you.”

He downed his champagne. His eyes scintillated. “It’s a tight schedule. I thought you’d be more comfortable in Business. And I get the pleasure of your company. We can have a catch-up.”

Awkward!

“A catch-up? It’s been ten years, Alex. How long have you got?”

He glanced at his watch and laughed. “About seven hours.”

Even after a decade, he unnerved her with a sense that he could see inside her soul with those penetrating blue irises.

Outrageous.

That was silly. Deluded. It was the TV-star effect. Guys like Alex shouldn’t be allowed in confined spaces – like airplanes. Much too distracting. Flight attendants should be issued with Hot Man Alert signs. By law, or something.

Keep calm and carry on.

Her professional preparedness for the prospect of working with him after all these years had taken on an unexpected turn now that she was sitting next to him. Polite chit-chat she could do. The last thing she wanted was to start spilling out an over-share of personal details as if they’d never lost touch.

“There’s not much to tell. I know transatlantic travel is boring, but I’m not the in-flight entertainment.”

Okay, so long ago in a forgotten land, Alex had been her friend … And they’d fallen into bed together – that one time. She winced. That was before he went off and became famous and dropped her like a hot potato. She fumed. If they were on a bus, she’d hop off at the next stop. Seeing him like this had catapulted her back in time, and she was suddenly a tad out of her depth.

“Go on. Indulge me. Tell me all about it. How did my old mate Maggie become fashion guru Magenta Plumtree?” Alex’s mid-Atlantic voice hypnotized her, weakening her wariness.

His old mate! Really?

“I have my dippy mother to thank for the la-di-da name. The rest, I guess, is down to a lot of good luck and hard work.”

“Not to mention an instinct for style and a flair for all things fashion. Don’t be modest. You’re good and you know it.”

“The truth is I sort of fell into it. I’ve loved fashion since I was a little girl. I guess I like playing dress-up.”

“Good for you for doing what you love.”

He was more heart-stoppingly attractive than he’d ever been, but there was an aura of distance about him. Was this his celebrity bubble? She couldn’t make up her mind if she was annoyed with him for quizzing her, or pleased that he still thought of her as having been a friend. She was intrigued by him, that was for sure.

“I like helping people express their sense of style – whether it’s a special event or a makeover.” She was off. “I love it all. I like putting together looks that are bang on trend, or quirky ones that are a bit of a mash-up, the way we’re doing for these shoots with you and Nick. I love catwalk shows, fashion weeks, shoes – oh my lucky stars – how I love shoes.” She dipped her glance towards her beloved designer boots, wiggled her toes and clicked her feet together in the mode of The Wizard of Oz’s red-shoed Dorothy. “Then there’s the shopping – need I say more? I get to go wild in great cities. New York. London. Paris. I pick up accessories. I find little boutiques off the beaten track. Just last week I found a vintage shop to die for in Montmartre. It’s the best!” He watched her intently. Was he actually interested? He’d always been kind of unreadable. Her heart hammered. The more her pulse raced, the faster she burbled. “I’ve worked with designers and big high-street chains. I don’t have a preference. I can’t get enough of it all.” She forced herself to draw breath. “Sorry.” She sensed the spread of a blush rising up her neck and setting her face ablaze. “I’ll get down off my soap box now. I suppose you could say I’m incredibly shallow.”